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I can’t sleep. On the side of my brain that’s not going insane from the whispers, I know that there’s nothing there, but the whispers….

They’re so loud. Why are they so loud? I want to tell her to stop, but I can’t move my mouth the right way. Nothing’s coming out right. And oh God she’s coming closer, I can hear her coming closer, oh God oh God oh God make her stop-

And then she’s right beside me. The whispers are so loud now. What’s she saying? I can’t hear her right. 

It’s not real. It’s not real. Please, God, don’t be real. I don’t want to remember anymore. I can’t stand it. The whispers are so loud yet not loud enough for me to hear what she’s saying. Loud enough to be deafening, but soft enough that there seems to be no meaning. Just meaningless mumbling.

Or at least that’s what I hope it is.

The light’s off. I wish it wasn’t off. Why did I turn it off in the first place? I knew this would happen. I knew it as much as I know that Earth is round and the sky is blue. So why? Just why, past self?

I can hear her. She’s so loud now. So close. Just like before. This isn’t real. Can’t be real. Logic and reason dictates that it’s impossible.

Light flashes through the window. Lightning. But it’s not storming. Except it is. The wind thunders outside. A branch thuds against the window. I swear it wasn’t like this a minute ago, but it must have been. I was probably just too absorbed with her. After all, storms don’t just start….right?

Another flash of lightning illuminates the room for a split second. I can see her now. Only for a little, but I can see her. It’s impossible, yet it’s real. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real-

Another flash. Her shadow dances away from her as she looms over me like a grim reaper standing over a person past their death date. I can’t move away from her. A piercing scream, the splash of blood on the windshield. She reaches out and I can feel her grip my neck. Just like I did. It tightens to the point that I can’t breathe-

I jolt up, panting. The lamp on the table shines bright enough to keep the whole room relatively free of shadows, but nightlights are placed strategically throughout the room to keep it from getting dark. My room. Just a dream.

I don’t want to remember anymore. 

I stand. My shadow dances away, just like hers did. She was there. It was convenient. She’d seen me do it, and I couldn’t have witnesses. The rope sits on my desk, waiting to be used. It was so easy. She didn’t expect it. Mindlessly, I pick it up.

Bright morning light shines through the windows as the police officer observes the scene. Neighbors had reported blood splatters on the window around fifteen minutes before, but there are no signs of it now. There is, however, a dead body hanging from a banister.

She turns the body over. Seeing no signs of outward injuries, she sighs and starts documenting the scene. “Another poor soul who felt life wasn’t worth living,” she remarks offhandedly. “I swear these cases are getting more and more common.”

Unseen by her, a girl lurks in the shadows. As the officer leaves to get her radio, she follows behind. Waiting. Watching.

I know what I did.



Written by WarriorCatPonybox
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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